


Every Move Is Small

by anemic_cinema



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1618724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn accidentally sees something in the woods, which sets off a bunch of things for him and Daryl.</p><p>CW: use of a racial slur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Move Is Small

It's starts with Glenn's hat. It goes missing amongst the laundry, but Glenn doesn't think about it too much. He just chalks it up as a loss, and finds a new hat. He has to kill some walkers to get to it, but that's just the luck of it. It's better than having a sunburned scalp.

He forgets all about it until he's cutting through the woods, bringing up wet laundry to hang in the clearing at the top of the quarry. There's a rustling noise up ahead, followed by a grunt. It doesn't sound like a walker, but he still slows down, and walks carefully to keep himself hidden.

It would be better if it was a walker, because it would be less embarrassing. He sees it for a second, before averting his eyes and rushing off as quietly as he can.

Daryl, sitting at the base of a tree, jerking himself off furiously. That's bad enough. But the fact that he had Glenn's missing hat in his hand, pressing it to his face, that's what makes the younger man turn bright red and sweaty and the tiniest bit hard. It was just a glimpse, and Glenn feels terrible about walking in on such a private moment, but it's his damn hat after all. 

The next day, as he's sitting in front of the fire, the redneck walks past him and throws the missing hat at him.

“Keep an eye on yer shit chinaman.”

His tone is disdainful, and Glenn gets the urge to say something in front of all the others about what he saw in the woods. But he doesn't. 

The hat no longer smells like him. It smells like Daryl. The young man wonders if that's why he gave it back.

**

The next item is a shirt. Sweat stained, and dirty. Glenn brings it to the laundry pile, but sets it aside from the rest. Maybe it's an invitation, he's not sure. He's not sure of much these days. It goes missing, and that little fact makes his mind run rampant with images of what Daryl might be doing with it. Does he just smell it? Does he drag his tongue across the sweat stains, tasting what's left of Glenn on it? 

More importantly, what motivates him to do it?

During the next round of laundry, the shirt pops back up. Glenn doesn't bother asking questions, and retrieves it from the line himself. Daryl watches him take it off of the line and throw it over his shoulder. When the younger man looks over at him, he averts his eyes and pretends he doesn't care and that he wasn't staring at the way Glenn's hands grasped the clothespins.

**

Two more shirts disappear like that, only to reappear conveniently. Daryl doesn't act any different towards Glenn, but there is a subtle shift in the way he looks at him. Glenn imagines there's a hint of tenderness now in those tired eyes, but it's so hard to tell. 

At night, Glenn masturbates while thinking about what Daryl might be doing with those shirts, and what he might be thinking about. He manages to resist the temptation to go into the woods looking for him. That would just end badly. But when he cums, it's because he's thinking about the noises Daryl was making into that stupid hat. Needy, muffled, and sounding just a little like Glenn's name. 

**

Going to his tent is stupid. A terrible decision. But Merle is out somewhere on a supply run, and Daryl is gone hunting and the temptation is too great. Glenn pokes his head in one of the tents. He recognizes items of Daryl's clothing in it, so he goes it. This time he has a pair of boxers to give him. The tent smells like Daryl, musky, a little dirty, and sweaty. It's not a good smell, but it's intoxicating. He places the boxers on top of the older man's cot, but then decides to sit down. The scent is so good, it's raw and arousing. Glenn keeps taking deep breaths, filling his lungs with it. He wonders if he'd have time to rub one out before anyone came back to this part of the camp. 

He doesn't see Daryl come in because his eyes are closed.

“The fuck you doin' here?” The redneck's voice breaks him out of it, and Glenn bolts to his feet. He's at a loss, and wonders how badly this is going to end up for him, and he can see himself with a black eye or bruises all over his body. Then Daryl sees the boxers. His expression softens just a little, but is still as stoic as ever. 

“Are those fer me?”

Glenn nods. The silence between them is uneasy. Daryl sits down on his cot, and takes the garment in his hand. They're thin cotton with a blue plaid pattern on them. He rubs the hem of one of the leg holes between his fingers. 

“You wanna watch or somethin'?” He mumbles, not looking at Glenn. As if looking at the younger man would make too many things clear. 

Glenn swallows, and sits down on the floor of the tent. “Sure.”

Despite the fact that Daryl asked him to stay, he acts like he's not even there. The redneck brings the boxers up, and buries his face in them. He inhales, and his free hand goes between his legs.

He doesn't look up at Glenn, but Glenn can't take his eyes off of him. He watches Daryl nuzzle the fabric, take some between his teeth and suck on it as he pulls his cock out and strokes it. The redneck's moans are muffled by the fabric, and Glenn begins to palm at himself through his pants. When he pushes down his own pants, Daryl looks up at him briefly, but doesn't say anything. 

The tent smells like flesh and sex now, and is filled with the noise of their soft grunts. 

Daryl cums all shuddery like, gasping into the dirty fabric that smells like the most intimate parts of Glenn. He cleans himself up using them, and starts to stare at Glenn, who's still seated and trying to get himself to cum. He's so close. He wishes that the redneck would just come over already and touch him. He must want to touch him. He wants to smell and taste him bad enough. 

'Come here, I'm right here, all you have to do is come over here and you could touch me. You could have me.'

Glenn doesn't say anything like that out loud though, and Daryl just watches him from afar. His eyes study the younger man's movements, how his fingers move up and down the shaft of his cock, how he lets his thumb linger against the head. He'll remember those small moves for the next time he's alone with the only parts of Glenn that he figures he can have.

When Glenn's done, Daryl tosses him the dirty boxers so he can clean himself off as well. The younger man does, and gets up to leave. He wonders if he should say something, but Daryl's eyes are avoiding him again. 

He never gets those boxers back, but that's fine by him.


End file.
